


No Sleep

by arrow_through_my_writers_block



Series: New Beginnings - Arrow Season 4 [4]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Love, Relationship Issues, Relationship(s), Season/Series 04, Sleep, no sleep, season 4 speculation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-08 09:11:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5491727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arrow_through_my_writers_block/pseuds/arrow_through_my_writers_block
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver and Felicity experience bouts of not sleeping for many reasons... but they always find a way to fall asleep, eventually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Snores

**Author's Note:**

> This little series started as a funny little thing with the first part and got bigger as I thought about it.

Felicity couldn’t take anymore. 

Their return to Star City had meant a lot of changes to their relationship. No more boring suburbs. No more lazy Sunday afternoons spent in bed. But even more importantly: no more ignoring their importance to Team Arrow.

Their return to Star City meant diving headfirst into a seemingly impossible fight against a psycho with telekinesis and the terrifying ability to suck the life out of people with a simple touch. It meant her taking her place as CEO of Palmer Tech. It meant Oliver running for mayor.

_ And, it apparently means snoring is the new normal… _

Oliver was snoring. So loud. So constant. So unbearably annoying. She couldn’t take it anymore.

She had already nudged him, requesting that he turn over. He hadn’t, though the snoring had ceased for at least a minute. After that, she had nudged him once more, asking as sweetly as possible if he could change positions. He did, giving her a soft peck on the cheek before turning over to face away from her. And then the snoring worsened.

Now she was staring at the ceiling, eyes heavy and patience waning. Each rumbling growl from Oliver caused her to tense up, all of her buttons pushed at once. One last sound made her lose composure. She punched his arm. Not too hard, but hard enough to wake him.

“What the hell, Felicity?” he hissed, voice groggy and thick.

“You. Won’t. Stop. Snoring.”

“That’s a natural function. I am so tired, Felicity.”

“I understand completely, Oliver. I haven’t been able to sleep. At all. And while you might think your snores are adorable, I can assure you they are not. They are annoying. So incredibly annoying, especially since I have a meeting in… Oh my god, I have a meeting in three hours and-”

Her sentence was cut off by Oliver’s breathing shifting into a low snore. She punched his arm once more.

“Hey!”

“Right back at you, buddy! Stop snoring!”

“I can’t help it.”

“Maybe we should spoon. Every time we spoon, you don’t snore. It’s like you’re hyper aware of my ear being near your lips.”

“No.”

Her head jerked and she stared at him in the dark. The outline of his face was gorgeous. Everything about him was gorgeous.  _ Don’t admire him, Smoak. Be firm. Be strong.  _ “Excuse me?” she asked, slightly offended. “Do you not want me to sleep or something?”

“Nothing's gonna change. If we spoon, I’ll snore in your ear and you’ll just keep waking me up.”

“Did you not just hear what I said, Oliver?”

He did not answer.

“Oliver?”

Again, no answer. She squinted through the darkness and saw his eyes closed and his lips parted. Then the low rumble picked up where it had left off a few moments before.

“Oh. My. God. Nope. Not dealing with this anymore.”

She grabbed her pillow and her favorite fluffy blanket and marched out of the room and down the stairs. She started a fire and curled up on the couch, the silence of the living room perfect.

Within seconds she was asleep. 


	2. Cold

Oliver shivered awake. 

Over the past year, he had grown so used to Felicity’s warmth. It sheltered him from his demons, the ones that battered against his mind and assaulted his dreams, turning them into nightmares within seconds. Her warmth enveloped him, keeping him safe and content. Her warmth helped him sleep. He wondered how he had slept without her for so long; how had he remained rested?

He shivered again, goosebumps spreading over his skin as he looked up at the ceiling. He slid his hand over, feeling the empty space beside him. Felicity was gone.

For a moment, his heart began to pound and panic roiled in the pit of his stomach and coursed through his veins. His fingers began to twitch, itching to wield his bow, to take out threats, to rescue her. But then he remembered her slaps and punches, and then her annoyed and exhausted complaints.

His panic subsided and his fingers ceased their motion. She was not taken from him. She was not in danger. 

He got out of bed, the coldness of the room overwhelming. Without her, the chill took over, wrapping the room in gloom. He threw on the t-shirt he had tossed onto the floor and quietly left the room. He padded down the hallway, his bare feet freezing against the uncarpeted flooring. He went down the stairs, seeing the warm glow of the fire flickering from the living room.

As he reached the bottom, he turned to see the top of her head against the throw-pillows on the couch. He walked over to her, admiring her peacefulness. Her favorite blanket was draped over her sleeping form and she was curled into an adorable little ball facing the fire. The dancing flames made her blonde hair shimmer. He smiled.

He did that a lot now. Her influence was intoxicating. He was happy. He was cheery. He was everything he had never expected to be.

He stepped forward and lifted her up off the pillow, tossing it aside before taking it’s place and then letting it rest in his lap. He let her curl up there, head sinking into the pillow, draping his arms around her. He pulled the blanket higher onto her shoulders and then turned his attention to the fireplace.

He lost himself in the flames and her quiet, peaceful breathing. He could live with no sleep if it meant moments such as this. With her warm glow mixing with the fire and his arms around her. Their rightful place. His rightful place. 


	3. Quiet

She can’t sleep.

In the absolute silence of the guest bedroom in the Diggles’ home, Felicity cannot sleep. Despite her love of quiet and peacefulness, the full size bed is almost excruciatingly cold. His warmth is not there, radiating from his body to hers. He weight of his body is not tilting the bed, sending her closer to him by the angle.

And his snores are not echoing off the walls.

She hadn’t expected to miss that noise - the noise that more often than not sent her down to the living room of their loft. The noise that aggravated her to no end. The noise that had her convinced that Oliver might possibly have sleep apnea - a possibility that he more often than not ignored.

She should not be thinking about him. She should not be thinking of his body or potential health issues. She should not be thinking about him at all.

She walked out. She left to clear her head. She left to get a good night’s sleep without him hovering and waiting for her answer. She wasn’t ready to give him an answer - she wasn’t ready to give him the answer she had already decided on the moment the truth left his lips.

Of course she loves him. Of course she loves his son. Of course she’s pissed at him for keeping everything a secret. Of course she’ll forgive him.

She tosses and turns, searching for a comfortable spot that doesn’t exist. This isn’t her bed. This isn’t _their_ bed. This home is not hers. This home is not _theirs_. It creaks and hums differently, giving her a whole other atmosphere. It is a home for different people - a different family. It is nothing like the one she’s built and continues to build with Oliver. It is its own entity, and she’s an outsider.

She pulls the covers up tighter, past her shoulders and clutched right below her chin. She takes a deep breath and decides.

One more hour. One more hour and she’s leaving.

One more hour and she’s going back to Oliver. To her home. To her bed. To her love.


	4. Dwindling

He refuses to sleep. 

He knows he won’t be able to - he knows sleeping without Felicity is impossible for him. And with the argument they had a few hours ago, he can’t even leave the living room.

The fire has dwindled into low embers that give off very little heat, crackling sporadically and with dull disinterest. The fire he had built earlier in the evening doesn’t give two shits about his inability to move to rekindle it… it will continue to dwindle until the initial spark is gone. Like the spark - the light - that disappeared when she walked out the door.

He grips the arm of the couch, refusing to acknowledge the horrific trembling residing in his hands. He’s afraid, but he hates admitting it. He’s lonely, but he hates admitting it. Without Felicity, Oliver is nothing… He’s nothing but a vigilante with very little to live for.

He thinks of Will - thinks of his son. The son he’s gotten very few chances to get to know. The son he kept secret for too long. The son that has caused a rift between him and the woman he loves. He doesn’t blame Will, however. He blames himself.

He rubs at his eyes with tremulous hands and checks his watch. It is three in the morning.

Oliver toys with the idea of checking up on her - scaling the side of Digg’s building until he finds the window to the guest bedroom. He just wants to know she’s okay. He just wants to know she’s safe.

He grips the arm of the couch again, fighting to keep himself seated. He knows she’ll come back when she’s ready…

But can he survive that long?

Then he hears it. He hears the lock turning, unbolting. He hears the jingling of her keys on the other side of the door. As the door swings in and the sound of her heels clicking against the floor reach his ears, he fights the urge to run to her. To take her into his arms. To beg for all the forgiveness he most certainly does not deserve. He grips the arm of the couch and clenches his jaw.

“Oliver…”

Her wavering voice shatters his heart and tears his gaze away from the dwindling fire. He looks at her. She looks at him. The light is back, if not slightly dimmer from the dark distortion he created with his lies. Her eyes are swollen from crying and her hair is mussed from obvious tossing and turning.

“Oliver…” she whispers again, a tad stronger, steadier. “Let’s go to sleep.”

His brows raise. His hand loosens its hold on the couch. His trembling subsides. “What?”

She comes to his side. She collapses onto his lap, throwing her arms around him and cradling him. “Let’s go to sleep. This doesn’t mean I’m not pissed or that we aren’t going to discuss this whole thing - we totally are. But I want to sleep, and I need your arms for that.”

He takes a deep breath. He breathes her in. He inhales his life, getting it back after a momentary stint in a darkened hell of his own making. He kisses her neck, right at her pulse, and then nods. “Let’s go to sleep.”


	5. Eyes

She doesn’t know why she agreed to this. 

Felicity should have agreed simply to the bachelorette party… not the unnecessary sleepover afterwards. She knew damn well when she had told Thea yes that she would never be able to sleep, and now she’s beginning to lose her mind.

The gigantic hotel suite feels cavernous. Threatening. Sinister. For a moment she feels like eyes are on her, watching her. But then she shakes the feeling away. She’s just tired. And slightly drunk.

It is too quiet, too cold and too foreign. It is too quiet without his snores, too cold without his arms and too foreign without her own bed. She’s proven this truth to herself too many times in the past. Sleeping alone is impossible.

Thea, Laurel and Lyla are all out in the main room of the suite, passed out from too much liquor and good times. She’s in the large bedroom, wrapped in overly luxurious blankets in a king size bed that feels as if it is ready to engulf her at any moment. She misses the small queen size bed at the loft. The bed almost too small for the two of them. The bed that forces them to cuddle - forces them to invade each other’s space. The bed that causes them to make love more often than not.

The thought sends her heart to pounding and her mind into unwanted territory.

She’s alone, but she wants his presence. She’s alone, and she needs his presence.

And then she feels it again. That sensation of eyes glued to her. Studying. Watching.

Then the lock on the balcony door is sliding up with a little click and the door is opening, letting in the lights from the Star City skyline. 

Her heart begins to pound faster… this time with fear.  Fear lingering after the overwhelming terrors that have almost destroyed their lives. The pain that occasionally still lingers in the scar at her side and the stiffness in her limbs and spine. The knowledge that life is too short and too many variables threaten to make it even shorter. But soon the fear subsides.

A familiar shadow blinks out the light as it enters the room. A familiar cologne fills the air, mixed with the stench of alcohol.A familiar voice is speaking, seducing her out of her fear and into his arms within seconds.

“Felicity,” Oliver whispers into the dark room. “I need you.”


End file.
